


lack of

by shinyhappyfitsofrage



Series: the story of love is hello, goodbye [9]
Category: Young Justice (Cartoon)
Genre: Drabble, F/M, Grief/Mourning, Pre-Established Relationship, Religion, Sad
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-25
Updated: 2016-01-25
Packaged: 2018-05-16 06:38:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 300
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5817979
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shinyhappyfitsofrage/pseuds/shinyhappyfitsofrage
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There are no atheists in foxholes.</p>
<p>Prompt #10252 - an ungodly hour</p>
            </blockquote>





	lack of

“You see, its people like you,” snorts Artemis as she watches Wally fumbling for an insult that cannot be found in his _puny_ brain, “that are living proof that God has a sense of humor.

 Wally, haltingly, stops attempting to kill the wasp that had so much as flown near his sandwich. His hands dropping back to his side, he gives her such a long look that she suddenly doesn’t even feel comfortable enough to comment waspishly (ha) on the silence. “Do you believe in God?” he asks her.

She scrunches her nose and focuses on sipping her hot chocolate. “Kind of a personal question for the _meddlesome hideous frog_ , don’t you think?” she quips, expertly avoiding the question. It has been two months and Wally knows her well-enough to have noticed that is one of her more developed talents, and he leers at her.

“Do you?” It’s the unforeseen intensity of his voice that throws her off guard. She blinks twice and stares at her socks, at the spoon that still has drops of hot chocolate on it, lying on the coffee table.

“Um, I don’t know,” she says blankly. “Yeah. I guess… yeah, I do. I guess I do.”

Wally doesn’t meet her eyes and instead watches the television. She follows his gaze. It’s an ad for Febreeze. “I don’t,” he shrugs.

This changes in three weeks, when the building caves in around their heads and the plaster and dust paints Artemis a peculiar shade of invisible, marred only by the maddening red on her ribs, when she realises with a hollow off-beat gasp that she is ending in that moment. Somewhere in the cloud she hears Wally, inexplicably praying aloud in a wild, sort of crazed manner, and her name is said almost as frequently as God’s. 


End file.
